THE SILO – by David Sobieski
Hay wasn’t the only food for the cattle during the cold Wisconsin winters. They also needed more protein through the corn. Filling the 40’ concrete silo in the west end of the barn was another fall project, required to keep the cows fed and the milk production level. It was, after all, all about the milk to keep the farm going.
We had over the decades different methods to fill the silo. I only remember the last one, which was the Case blower. But the process didn’t start by moving the blower into position.
Before the cold frost of the fall set in, the field corn was still green, and the ears of tightly packed kernels were firm but not hard. Perfect for the 25 head of cattle on the farm. The process to harvest the corn evolved over the years. I start with how I remember it.
Before we even started to chop the corn, we had to get ready.
The first step was unload the silo filler pipe from the loft up inside the open machine shed. Segments of 8” diameter steel pipe were kept up and out of the way overhead in the shed. I remember helping Dan as he lowered each segment down to me. We would stretch them out on the ground next to the silo where they would be bolted together into one long 35 foot section of pipe like an adult tinker toy. It was topped off by a arching chute at the end, that directing the silage down into the silo. That working end was connected to a rope.
To a young boy, this pipe was heavy and massive. Dan would climb up on the outside of the silo, rope in hand, using the wobbly steps there were bolted into the side of the silo. They were rusty, and wobbled with each step, having been exposed to the elements for the past 60 years even back then. No doubt, Dad used to do the same process when the kids were young. Once at the top, Dan would thread the rope through the equally old metal pulley, and drop the line to the ground.
Having treaded the pulley, the next step was a two person job of strength and balance. One would hoist the blower pipe up (that would be Dan), while another would try to turn the pipe to thread the blower chute into the silo window. Completing the task seldom happened on the first try, but once successful, the next step was to climb back up and secure the pipe to the side of the silo.
Once again, we have a Case corn chopper. Driven by the connecting the chopper to a power shaft off the back of the tractor (Power Take Off or PTO), the chopper was a single row corn killing machine. Driven down each corn row, the chopper cut the corn stalks at the base, and fed the stalks into flying chopping machine that not only cut the corn into little pieces, but also blew the corn into the following wagon. Again, it was 10 wheels on the ground. Backing up more than a few feet was something you avoided. Driving in ever decreasing rectangles was the game.
When the wagon was full, it was time to switch wagons. Usually, two wagons were involved so one was being filled (usually by Danny), one was being unloaded (usually Leo) and Wayne did the driving back and forth providing the pickup and delivery. Of course roles changed, and I remember my share of driving the wagons. It was always a challenge to take a really heavy load of chopped corn and pull it up the hill between the barn and the machine shed. Sometimes the tractor wheels would start to slip, as the equipment struggled up the hill.
The silage was unloaded by hand into the Case blower, that used the power transferred from a tractor to the blower. The transfer was via a large belt that ran from the tractor pully to a pully on the back of the blower. I use to love playing with the belt while it was running. Little things like sticking grass into the belt and watching it flip around the pulley at what seemed like a million miles an hour and have it come out totally squished. I was smart enough to know that same thing would happen to my finger or my arm. That’s how kids learned on the farm.
To watch how the belt powered equipment, and how dangerous it was, watch this youtube video. We didn’t have fences to keep prying arms away from the belts at the our farm, nor did we have guides to keep belts from flying off the wheels as they do here (half way between the tractor and blower). Those are for wimps.
When Dad stopped loading hay in the barns using the hay loader and the fork, we switched to cutting the hay, straw or silage in the fields and then blowing into the barn, or in the case of the silo, blowing the silage up into the silo. In all my early years, I climbed to the top from inside the silo chute too many times to count, sometimes to play, but mostly to throw silage down the chute. Over the same years, I have only climbed the outside of the silo window once in my life in the early 70’s. I use to watch Dan climb to install the blower pipe, and was impressed how he could scale the concrete call with little effort. When I climbed it, it was not to secure the blower pipe, but to help a neighbor catch pigeons that were roosting in the silo. I remember looking down on all the jagged cultivator equipment under me thirty feet below parked next to the silo knowing if I fell, or the rusty steps gave out, it would be sure death. With each step, it seems the rusty metal bar would wiggle as there were loose from all the rust. I wasn’t comfortable climbing up there by any means. Death by trying to catch these flying rats was such a stupid way to go, and many people were killed doing something out of their comfort zone. I took a little solace in knowing that at least it would be quick if I ever fell, and our neighbor wouldn’t ever get his stupid pigeons. I never did get paid the bounty per bird that I was promised that prompted my death defying action. It didn’t really matter, as after I was done and was safe back on the ground, I told myself I would never do that again, and I never did.
I never did get paid the bounty per bird that I was promised that prompted my death defying action. It didn’t really matter, as after I was done and was safe back on the ground, I told myself I would never do that again, and I never climbed the outside of the silo again.
LIFE LESSON LEARNED:
Don’t risk your life for doing something that isn’t worth the risk. In other words, don’t be stupid. Assess the balance of risk vs benefit. If there isn’t any benefit, don’t assume the risk. That is as valid at playtime as it is on the job.
SCIENCE LESSON LEARNED: Stored energy is powerful stuff.
There is incredible power stored in a gallon of gasoline. Driving around in a car getting 20 MPG is one thing, but it is really difficult to see what that gallon accomplish. When you focus that stored energy in a gallon of gasoline to a single purpose, it is impressive the work it can accomplish. That tractor never moved, but it did drive the belt that drove the blower that could propel literally tons of feed up 40 feet into the air before falling back to earth. And a single gallon would do that for a couple of hours. If any of us had to carry 50 lbs of anything up 40 feet straight up, we would be dying at the top. Unleash and direct the stored energy of a gallon of fossil fuel, and you can move tons, and measure the progress at the end of the day. As a young boy, I could see that a gallon of liquid energy lifted tons of cattle food up and through a window, 40 feet above the ground where it was deposited in a concrete storage container. I would NOT want to do that work by hand. Gasoline is a force to reckon with.
The only thing as impressive of the work produced by a gallon of gasoline, was the power of the wind as evidenced by the farm windmill. Of course gas had the advantage of being available on demand.
UPDATE: The silo pipes at still stored up in the machine shed loft, and the old Case blower still sits wedged between the back wall and the support beam, unable to fully extend and relax after it have filled it final silo 40 years ago. It’s mission was accomplished with honors. The rusty steps on the silo are still attached to the weathered concrete walls, but please don’t test them.
UPDATE 2021: I was sad to learn that on morning of July 28, 2021, a bad storm passed through the farm and surrounding area. Many trees were lost including several at the farm. But sadly, the wind also tore off the roof on the old silo that stood guard over the barn for the last 75 years. The big round tin dome on top always reminded me of a lighthouse. A beacon of sorts for tractors lost at sea. Now it lays crumpled at the foot of the headless tower. Sad. See attached pictures (photos by Jim).
